Benji hadn’t been able to sleep all night. Today was the big day.
It all started with Jimmy and the summer jobs at the naval station he’d set up for his cousin. Benji was enthralled by the experience: everyone running around in different uniforms, walking on the biggest ships he’d ever seen and just wandering around and taking it all in. He didn’t have to do any real work that summer. Every now and then, the guy in the brown uniform or the guy with the glasses would give him a bunch of computer punch cards to feed into some machine, but for the most part, he just listened to the sailors talk and then walked around when he wasn’t putting those cards into a machine.
He got a job on the navy base every summer of his high school years. He kept it somewhat secret…military people weren’t popular in his neighborhood, and he knew the gangsters jumped sailors whenever they saw them at parties. The only one he told was Tina— she’d started at a new high school when they were sophomores, but even though they weren’t lockermates anymore, they talked often. Tina was the one who’d gone with him when he wanted to visit the military recruiters right before they were both supposed to graduate.
Benji was adamant about wanting to join the Navy—he wanted to sail on one of those huge ships or even better…live on a submarine, that seemed like it would be fun. He knew exactly what it was like too, because they let him go on one when he was working one summer. Benji imagined it might be like being on that Star Trek spaceship; that was a good show, they had lots of adventures too. Benji intended to ask the recruiter if living on the submarine was kind of like that. Tina didn’t think it was like that at all…which annoyed Benji. After all, he was the one who’d worked at the Navy base; he figured that made him a little smarter than Tina about submarines.
The Navy guy wasn’t there when they went to visit the recruiters, though and the door was locked. But the Marine guys were there.
Benji saw a few Marines when he was working, but he hadn’t seen any up close. This Marine guy who pulled him into the recruiter’s office seemed like the guy on the poster— he talked strong, and all four of the Marines in the office stood and shook his hand— they all looked pretty sharp in their uniforms too, all muscular with about a thousand tattoos each. They took turns telling interesting and funny stories, and they drew Benji into their jokes; he felt like he was already a Marine. Then they showed Benji a movie about what basic training was like, and Benji knew what he wanted to do. The Navy was out…the Marines were in. They said it would take eight months to start, but Benji could meet with other recruits to hang out every week until he left. He just had to come back and sign some papers.
Benji was ready to go. But a few weeks later, he saw a tall brother in a blue uniform at the mall who called him over. He was an Air Force guy and very interesting too, but Benji told him he was going to join the Marines. Mr. Air Force laughed when Benji said that he’d seen Benji’s scores and asked if he was sure the Marines was what he wanted to do. He said the Marines were tricky and they were making it sound good, but he gave a lot of reasons why the Air Force was better. He put his hand on Benji’s shoulder, and looking Benji right in his eyes, he said, “You’re too smart to fall for that, aint you, young brother?”
No. He wasn’t. He really wanted to join the Marines very badly, but what he really wanted was to just go somewhere…anywhere. Tina was preparing to leave for college, and with Tina going soon, Benji found himself wanting to do something too. Tina kept asking what he was going to do and if he was OK. She was always nice about it but…it was almost like she was feeling sorry for him, like he had nothing going on. He didn’t want to go to college but in his mind, maybe the military was even better…or at least as good. And he could tell…Tina thought only people who couldn’t get into college went into the military. Maybe she was right but when he came back home in his uniform, he’d impress EVERYBODY…just like Jimmy did. So when the Air Force guy said he could leave in four months instead of the eight months the Marines said it’d take, Benji was sold. He was ready to go..he enlisted in the Air Force as a Security Specialist. A military policeman. Benji liked the fact they carried machine guns and got to wear berets. He was going to wear that beret when he came home to visit too.
Benji’s mama was tight lipped about his decision to join the military, but Pops seemed positively delighted; they stayed up many a night discussing the dos and don’ts. Benji loved and admired his father, but his Pops was not a talkative person. He was only dimly aware that his father served during the war in Korea or Vietnam or some place; now, father and son could come together and discuss the military for hours…and often did. Benji always knew he had his mother’s unconditional love and affection, but over the next four months, he felt his father’s pride in his decision. And making his father proud just felt good.
But now…it was time to go. It was still dark, but his recruiter was coming early, so Benji had to be ready. When Benji got up and went into the kitchen, he was surprised to see Mama already there, making a breakfast big enough for the entire family but was only for him. Mama stayed busy and talkative, like if she talked continuously enough, her middle son wouldn’t leave. Right before his recruiter came, Pops came out of the room, got his coffee, winked at his son, and exclaimed “You gonna be the top kick soon!”, proudly using the old Army term for “first sergeant”. Pops didn’t linger though…with a grand smile and a squeeze of his son’s shoulder, he went back to bed. Only Mama was awake when the recruiter knocked on the door.
The recruiter went back to his van to wait after he knocked on the door. Mother and son shared a long look. Benji thought she might cry, but she didn’t; Mama wasn’t a crier. Instead, Benji’s mama just hugged her son very, very tight.
And then…Benji got in the van with the recruiter and other recruits, and they all drove off to his destiny.
Only when the van was out of sight did Mama allow her tears to flow.
For Benji, what followed was a day that seemed like it would never end.
After getting firm instructions to remain together, Benji and four other San Diego recruits spent three hours in the airport before boarding their flight for San Antonio, the site for Air Force basic training. Upon arrival, the group of recruits followed the directional signs displayed for new recruits. Benji then found himself congregating with about one hundred other recruits from all over the country…and they waited together another three hours while they were allowed to use the meal vouchers the recruiters gave them to buy food in the airport.
Around 9:00 p.m., a bunch of guys in uniform and Smokey the Bear hats came to line them all up and put them on buses, and Benji thought, “I thought this was going to be hard. I’m a little hungry…but this isn’t hard at all.”
I smiled.
Because once they got on the base…the atmosphere changed dramatically.
The men in those Smokey Bear hats got on the buses and screamed for everyone to shut up, and the buses drove around…and around…and around…and around. It was pitch black outside. There were no lights outside, no buildings— it was like they were driving around in space.
It must have been midnight when the buses stopped. The Smokey the Bear guys, men Benji would come to know as his drill sergeants, got everyone off the bus, lined them up again , and welcomed them all to the Air Force by teaching everyone how to stand at attention and how to address the drill sergeants by saying, “Drill Sergeant, Recruit Frazier reports as ordered.” Then the drill sergeant would give them permission to speak…if they chose.
The drill sergeants informed them all they were to follow every direction quickly and without questioning. When asked if they understood, the group yelled in unison, “Yes sir!” so the drill sergeants proceeded to test whether they truly understood the instructions.
“Pick ’em up!” one drill sergeant ordered.
And the group stood there and stared.
“Pick ’em up!” the drill sergeants yelled again, even louder and with more aggression.
Unsure, a few of the group started marching in place.
“Pick ’em up, pick ’em up, pick ’em up!” the drill sergeants yelled with obvious and increasing rage.
And slowly…the recruits understood the drill sergeants were telling them to pick up their luggage, and one by one, they did so and prepared to go wherever they were going…hopefully to bed. Benji was exhausted.
“Now put ’em down!”
Thinking they’d done something wrong, the recruits put their luggage down.
“Pick ’em up!”
And once again—the recruits picked up their luggage.
“Put ’em down!”
Over and over, the recruits stood there at attention, in the early hours of the morning, exhausted, attacked by Texas mosquitoes, picking up and putting down their luggage on command until after a little more than an hour, they were picking up and putting down their luggage quickly and together, all fifty recruits responding to orders immediately, without question, and in absolute sync with each and every member of the team.
It was the first lesson of Benji’s military career…and the end of the first day.
That initial lesson of rapid obedience and teamwork served Benji well through the six weeks of basic training and the eight weeks of technical training that followed to qualify Benji as a security specialist. Benji’s world up to then consisted of depending on his family and being comfortable in his neighborhood, but the world in general, and the Air Force specifically, was broader than Benji’s narrow viewpoint. There were fights, both physical and mental, as people of different races and backgrounds came together for the first time. There were various ways of seeing the world, different types of interaction and humor, different habits and cultures and languages—but they all needed each other. The tasks the drill sergeants gave them to complete were impossible to complete alone; some seemed overwhelming or impossible…and they refused to tell the trainees how they were supposed to complete the seemingly impossible tasks of increasing complexity placed before them. The only way to succeed was to come together, and when the trainees figured out they would have to break into teams on their own and count on each other or they would all fail, they completed their transformation from trainees into Airmen.
Still, when Benji reported to his first permanent duty station in Nebraska, the feeling wasn’t quite like he pictured it would be when he was doing his summer employment in high school. For one thing, Nebraska was nothing like his California home; he felt like he’d landed in a foreign country. He hadn’t anticipated being homesick. He missed his Mama, he missed Pops, he was always wondering what his brothers were doing, he missed Angela mothering and smothering him, and…surprisingly, he missed Nikki. He missed Ricky and Brian and Tina—he missed being in high school; he was not comfortable in this strange place. Arriving at his first permanent base was also different from being in basic training or technical training school. There, the drill sergeants were always around— guiding them, teaching them, yelling, but always there.
But when Benji arrived at his first permanent base…there was no one. Just him.
And me, of course.
He wandered around the base carrying his duffel bag, going into each barracks to inquire if that was where he was supposed to be. When he found the chow hall, he stayed there until it closed, just because it was the only place he found that seemed even remotely familiar. When the chow hall closed, he was forced to resume wandering until he finally found the last barracks at the top of the hill.
“Is this the security forces barracks?”
His voice was too high pitched. And he’d already forgotten Marcus’s command to not ask questions but to make statements. It was feminine to ask questions…he should have said, “I’m looking for the security forces barracks.”
Maybe that explained why the men assembled playing pool all erupted in laughter when he concluded his question.
Damn it.
One pointed lazily to a door marked “Charge of Quarters,” and a thoroughly humiliated Benji went to the open door and received his room assignment.
When he opened the door, one of his new roommates, annoyed at being awakened, roughly ordered him to “shut the fuck up, newbie, and don’t turn on the fucking light.” Benji was immediately angered. That sounded like an invitation to fight, and Benji was ready to accept the invitation…but here? The team came first…so Benji fumbled around in the dark, and resigned to not being able to put away his belongings in the darkness, he climbed into the only open bunk fully clothed. Sleep did not come easy in this place and wouldn’t come easy for some time to come.
Benji was having serious regrets about his decision to join the military.
But it got easier over time.
Benji’s supposedly glamorous job as a Security Specialist was pretty much walking around an airplane for twelve hours to make sure nobody crossed the red line painted around the plane…which of course no one ever did. But he made friends in the barracks, and as much as he would have liked to call home and speak to his family, it was too expensive…so his fellow Airmen in the barracks served in the role of family. His roommates were Louis Boyd from Pennsylvania and Kevin Hoover from New York…and then there were others in the barracks that formed his group. Jimmy Gaines was the informal leader; then there were Willie Evans, Donnie Brown, and Conrad London. The seven did everything pretty much together…where you found one, the others were usually not going to be far behind. They all worked together, sometimes on different shifts, but they always caught up with each other. They trained on air base ground defense, so in addition to walking around planes, they went into the field to train on security forces defense tactics for weeks at a time.
When they weren’t working or training, they were lifting weights, playing basketball, or playing on one of the squadron’s intramural sports teams. They’d all get dressed and go to the Airmen’s Club on weekends even if they had to work in the morning. Sometimes they would leave from the club, get in uniform, and go get midnight chow together, because you had to be in uniform to eat at the chow hall. But it was worth it, those midnight chow cheese omelets and french toast at the chow hall were better than any Benji ever had. There was just something about stumbling over to the chow hall, drunk, loud, funny, in uniform in the middle of night to eat eggs together. And the seven young Airmen took care of each other…when Benji had his wisdom teeth pulled and was forced to stay in the hospital, it was his roommates who picked him up, and even though the doctors told him to be careful because of the stitches in his mouth, they took him for BBQ beef sandwiches when he was released from the hospital anyway. And when the stitches broke and he vomited blood and BBQ beef chunks, they laughed and made Benji laugh in the aftermath too.
Benji was unaware of something, though. As his comfort grew with his military team, he thought less and less of his family back home. He loved them, of course, but homesickness would not go over well with his military duties. He continued to embrace his military identity and its associated teams.
The process repeated itself as Benji was promoted to Sergeant, reenlisted, and moved on to his second and third duty stations. Benji was growing as an Airman— he was expanding his duties beyond simply guarding assets. He was also learning to enforce the law on base as a full- fledged military policeman, and as a sergeant, he was now responsible for the welfare of other airmen…the welfare of the team. The feeling of homesickness never really left him, though— it was at its worst when he would call home for Mama’s birthday, Father’s Day, or a holiday. He could hear the revelry going on in the background as assembled family members rapidly alternated getting on the phone and returning to the Frazier family joy. These were the tough times, and the tougher it got, the more Benji had to lean on his team as a family substitute.
Which was confirmed necessary when Operation Desert Shield began in 1990.
This was different. Benji was an eight-year veteran, and his job up to that point was to protect whatever base he was stationed at and to enforce the law on that base. But when his squadron went on alert and ultimately landed in Saudi Arabia to live in tents, it seemed like…war. It seemed like what they all thought it might be when they joined. It seemed like what they’d all prepared for…but uncertainty was thick in the air. They were confident, but they were nervous over the prospect of the unknown at the same time—that Saddam guy said there would be ten thousand dead men in a single battle. Now, there was not only homesickness for his family back in California; there was also homesickness for the people back at his base—Saudi Arabia was a long way from both. The Red Cross helped by passing out phone cards for everyone to use, but it was still no easy thing to stand in line ninety minutes to make a call with a fifteen- minute time limit. The focus on team unity took on significantly added importance during these times. It was a curious dynamic—it wasn’t that everyone loved each other…or even liked each other. But the ideals born in basic training grew to adulthood under the threat of actual combat. It was a strength stemming from the collective belief that it was their turn now…many didn’t even know the details of why they were where they were; they only knew to succeed, to even have a chance at being America’s next generation of heroes or to even survive, they had to come together, count on each other, and believe in each other. Slowly but surely, little by little…Benji’s civilian identity kept getting stripped away, and in its place, Sergeant Frazier was emerging as an inspirational, visionary military leader of men and women.
As Benji’s career began its second decade, he became a mentor to many while having a grizzled veteran named Master Sergeant Jesse Gibson as his own mentor. The experienced senior noncommissioned officer took a liking to Benji and took him under his wing. He gave Benji an invaluable resource to bounce decisions off of, debate courses of action, learn the ways of senior enlisted leaders, and perform the delicate balance between living a military life and having fun. Master Sergeant Gibson brought Benji home, where his wife, Vicki, prepared them home-cooked meals and the men drank, argued of the merits of their preferred styles of music, and chided each other over whose generation was militarily superior. Benji ended up being at the Gibson residence almost constantly; despite their closeness, he was shocked to come across a memo written by his mentor recommending he be selected as a squadron first sergeant and serve as leader to several hundred Airmen in a squadron. Shortly after being promoted to master sergeant, Benji was selected to serve as a squadron first sergeant— just as his mentor advocated for him to be.
Despite being selected for the prestigious position, Benji was relatively young…just thirty-two years old. There were many older and more experienced senior noncommissioned officers than he. His mentor told him how to best handle those Airmen, and he should know…Master Sergeant Gibson was well over a decade older than Benji himself. He didn’t let that fact diminish his pride in his protégé, even though Benji grew frustrated with Airmen coming to his office for help, only to leave with a with a quiet comment to the administrative staff they would come back when the “ real first sergeant” had returned.
“First Sergeant!”
Benji was being summoned by his commanding office, Major Lay. As first sergeant, Benji was responsible to the commander for all Airmen’s health, welfare, morale, discipline, and training needs. He was the primary advisor to the commander on everything related to his Airmen. Though he was young, a master sergeant had to be talented, experienced, with a high level of leadership ability to be selected as a first sergeant. Accordingly, his commander consulted with him regularly.
“We got an issue, First Sergeant—need your take. One of the guys done put his neck on the chopping block. Drunk on duty. Then the dumb ass cussed out one of my lieutenants. Went home—drank some more. Got into it with a neighbor; Colonel was driving by and stopped— and the stupid mother fucker got into it with the Colonel! Don’t know what’s going on with these old heads. Six months from retirement, but times are changing, First Sergeant…this ain’t the fuckin’ bush. We ain’t in Vietnam. Anyhoo…took all the statements— witnesses too. Dumb mother fucker lawyered up, but take a look at this shit, and give me a recommendation by tomorrow for what we do about this.”
Benji accepted the stack. “This is an easy case,” he thought to himself. His mentor was huge on discipline but even bigger on weakness. Though Benji was young for a first sergeant, and the commander decided on punishments at times like these, the first sergeant was the one to administer them. So the squadron was getting ready to find out the new young first sergeant was not a man to b e played with. He mentally played out the future scene when he would put the guy at attention, keep him at attention, chew him out mercilessly, and then dismiss him without letting him speak. Not only would he gain respect from his squadron, but he was also determined to not let his mentor ever regret recommending him to be a first sergeant.
His heart dropped when he looked more deeply at the stack of papers.
Master Sergeant Jesse Gibson was the accused.
And Benji was now conflicted as never before.
Benji read every word on every page on the case the commander gave him, including statements from all the witnesses. They were clear and consistent and described in detail conduct clearly not becoming of a senior noncommissioned officer but also assault of a superior officer while under the influence of alcohol, disrespect to a senior officer, and a litany of additional charges. Though he tried to twist it in every way possible, Benji could only come to a single conclusion.
His mentor was guilty.
But now what?
He had an urge to call his mentor to ask him what he should do—his mentor was more than just a mentor by now…more like his big brother. But there was the obvious reason he couldn’t do that. But more than that, if he called, his mentor would undoubtedly appreciate it, but he’d heard his mentor rail…Jesse would also secretly consider him weak. And if his commander or his squadron found out he’d done so, they would likewise think the same.
So calling was out. He was on his own.
But what to advise the commander tomorrow?
Jesse Gibson was one of the most senior Airmen in the entire squadron…what happened to him in this case would be widely known. Benji was a young, lightly regarded first sergeant. If he went light on Jesse, the entire squadron would know he was light…scared…weak…and could be taken advantage of. Discipline issues might increase, and he’d be powerless to do anything about it.
But on the other hand…Jesse Gibson was not only his friend— he’d also given the Air Force his entire adult life. Though his crimes were significant, why should he suffer humiliation after so many years of helping so many? Why did Benji care what the squadron thought? As Jesse told him, “You’re a black man first…they’re not going to forget. Don’t you forget either.” Who cared what they thought?
The next morning came way too soon.
Benji gave his advice to the commander and justified it. The commander was impressed with Benji’s well-thought out rationale, accepted his recommendation, and directed Benji to notify Master Sergeant Gibson.
Later that morning, Jesse entered Benji’s office to hear the decision on his case. He’d expected Benji to come visit him the night before so he could explain; in fact, he was so certain Benji would come he’d asked Vicki to cook. Benji was young, but Jesse knew they could discuss a way for both of them to come out looking OK. They’d work it out together. But when Benji didn’t come over or call, Jesse briefly considered calling himself but decided against it. It would show weakness…even fear…and that was not something Jesse Gibson was ever prepared to show, especially to Benji. he was the one who brought Benji to the next level. But Benji was a neighborhood kid…loyal…he knew how to do the right thing.
And now…here he was in his protégé’s office, accompanied by his supervisor, the lieutenant. He smiled and sat. When Benji didn’t direct him to come to attention, Jesse knew he’d be OK and was relieved.
If it had only been the two of them, it may had been different; but the Lieutenant was there too. She was very young…inexperienced…so Benji knew that even though it was supposedly private, this meeting would be retold in the squadron. He hoped his voice wasn’t shaking as he began; because if it did, the squadron would know.
“Master Sergeant Gibson— a senior noncommissioned officer is entrusted with a huge amount of authority…even power. His actions are not questioned because he has earned the right to not be questioned. Senior noncommissioned officers are selected for their expertise in developing leaders at every level…if our Airmen are the backbone of what we do, if our NCOs are our mission’s heartbeat, then our senior noncoms are the very soul of the U S Air Force.”
Benji paused before he continued.
“On your feet.”
It was an order, given to a man Benji respected and admired…a man who until recently had been his senior…yet and still, it was clearly an order, given with dead eyes and a steel tone.
When Jesse looked on incredulously in shock, Benji repeated the order while adding in the unmistakable hiss of malice.
“I said…on…your…feet!”
Jesse rose stone faced with a look of absolute rage on his countenance and stood at the position of attention without taking his intense, almost menacing gaze off his protégé turned first sergeant.
Feeling the lieutenant’s nervousness, Benji was compelled to match Jesse’s burning intensity and looking him squarely in his eyes, Benji continued.
“You have been found guilty of multiple counts of drunkenness, dereliction of duty, assault, showing disrespect to a superior commissioned officer, and conduct unbecoming of a senior noncommissioned officer. In light of this finding, I find you have violated the core tenets of your current rank, and as such…
“you have forfeited the right to continue to wear it.
“Effective immediately, you are reduced in rank to the permanent grade of technical sergeant.”
Now Benji stood ramrod straight.
“You are dismissed, Technical Sergeant Gibson.”
Jesse stared incredulously. As the reality of what his friend and protégé said sunk in, his face slowly transformed from a face of confusion to a twisted mask of pure rage.
I thought he might leap over the desk and choke Benji.
With a final fiery glare, Jesse turned around and without waiting for the lieutenant, he stormed from the office, slamming the door shut with force as he left.
The lieutenant remained and just stared dumbfounded at Benji, unsure of what to do in the aftermath of what she had just witnessed.
“Keep on eye on him, L.T.; I’m here if you need me, ma’am”
And with a nod, Benji dismissed the young lieutenant. She seemed to be glad the episode was over.
Benji nearly collapsed into his chair when the session ended. He’d practiced what he would say and hoped he would have the conversation without his voice quivering or his hands noticeably shaking.
Now that it was over, and in light of what I’d just seen, I had a question for Benji.
“How do you feel about what just happened?”
Reducing Jesse in rank was the most serious and long- lasting punishment Benji could administer. Even confinement would have been more merciful…because it had an ending. But Jesse’s retirement pay would now be reduced by about $10,000 a year, which meant the true financial penalty meted out was likely in the hundreds of thousands of dollars.
All because Jesse got drunk at the wrong time.
Benji was consumed by feelings of disloyalty to his friend…to his mentor.
He could have recommended a written reprimand be placed in Jesse’s military file. He could have recommended a fine, a one-time forfeiture of Jesse’s paycheck. He could have recommended probation, or he could have recommended nothing at all…let Jesse be chewed out hard and warned to never exhibit such conduct again. That would have been a harder sell, but he knew just the rationale that would have swayed the commander.
But why, then?
Why did it have to be the maximum punishment?
In truth, Benji wasn’t sure it had to be.
“But if I wasn’t tough on my first case, how were they ever going to respect me?” Benji thought. “Now at least they’ll know…if that’s how the first sergeant will treat his friend…how would he treat us?”
But was that the right rationale? For a friend?
Benji doubted himself. He thought, “Maybe I should have given a fine, given out some extra duty, done some more training…that might have been better.”
Benji hated doing what he did, and though he hoped to explain to his friend later, that chance would never come.
Because neither Jesse nor Vicki ever spoke to him again.
Why did it have to be the maximum punishment?
Benji carried that internal debate for the rest of his military career.
But the next time an Airman came to see the first sergeant…he didn’t leave when he saw Benji was there. He knew the first sergeant was in.
Still, though…
Regardless, Benji’s career took off as a leader of men and women. He seemed to have an instinctive knack for employing the right skill at the right time.
When one of his Airmen needed help separating from an abusive civilian husband, it was Benji who faced down the aggressive husband and ensured his Airman was removed from the home without incident. When an Airman’s infant child died suddenly but the parents requested no chaplain participation because they were atheists, Benji officiated. When an Airman was accused of murder in the civilian community, Benji stood with him during the weeks-long trial until his ultimate acquittal due to self-defense. When an Airman was drunk and suicidal in his home on Christmas Day, Benji was the first one on the scene and calmed the Airman until medics arrived to care for the distraught Airman. When an airman went to prison, Benji did morale checks, and when he led his unit into combat and the barracks were bombed by terrorists, Benji took command at the scene, cared for the wounded, and brought his squadron home safely. Then - when terrorists flew planes into the World Trade Center, the base went into Condition Delta indicating they were under attack and his airmen thought it was possibly a drill or an exercise. They had exercised and practiced the scenario but many had never been through a real Condition Delta. So, it was Benji who calmed his Airmen’s fears and ultimately gathered them into the base theater to rally their warrior spirits with his “lock and load” speech that turned Airman confusion…into Airman readiness to fight.
Benji was all things to his troops…champion, advocate, teacher, counselor, coach, bodyguard, mentor, social worker, motivational speaker, and disciplinarian. His skill resulted in continued promotions— to senior master sergeant…then chief master sergeant…then ultimately command chief master sergeant, the senior enlisted Airman on the entire base, in charge of the base’s eight thousand troops.
He was now free to take care of the thousands of Airmen on the base in the best way he saw fit, answering only to the base commander. In short…from a military perspective, he had arrived.
But I reminded him it had been some time since he reached out to connect with his family back home.
It was a good reminder; Benji acknowledged it was something he needed to do and would do, but command chief master sergeant duties and responsibilities were extensive and as time advanced, he forgot my advice to reconnect with his family back in California.
He WAS taking his command chief master Sergeant responsibilities seriously though. Perhaps he took some responsibilities more seriously than others.
Benji wasn’t good at—nor was he interested in—providing strategic vision as his duties required. His duties required him to conference with other senior leaders to provide input to initiatives like the Combat Air Force Strategic Plan and the Joint Vision Strategy and to represent the base with civilian dignitaries from the local community during a seemingly endless number of social events.
He could speak to these responsibilities well enough to get by, but in truth— he was uninterested in that part of the job. To him, it seemed like those activities involved repeatedly having the same conversation. However, he relished every opportunity to utilize his true talents.
His skill as a communicator was of huge benefit. Benji was equally comfortable having a one-on-one conversations with Airmen of every rank on whatever topics interested them, regaling small groups with stories that informed or entertained, or addressing large crowds of several hundred people.
He molded each of the many teams that exist on a military base using whatever tool was necessary; he encouraged junior Airmen collectively and individually. He randomly met with the community along with the base commander, as both leaders would go to the Starbucks located on base every Friday morning and talk to whoever came by. He visited his teams of airmen deployed to combat zones…he empowered the base’s first sergeants to make changes to base policy without unnecessary bureaucracy.
The ultimate result was an engaged team—eight thousand men and women who somehow all considered each other family, all committed to the team over their individual needs, and all addicted to the joy of serving together, ready at the drop of a hat to come together to jointly produce a combat capability that earned the base recognition as the number one military base in the entire Air Force. Collectively, the United States Air Force was the most dominant aerospace force the world had ever seen—and Benji’s base was its best. The mightiest of the mighty.
“We’re like The Enterprise in Star Trek”, Benji thought with a laugh.
It was his crowning achievement.
But now his military retirement was on the horizon.
Thirty years is the maximum years of service allowed, and then an Airman must retire. Benji’s career was successful beyond his wildest dreams. He wasn’t just good on paper…he was good in reality…and he knew it. With no more military worlds left to conquer and his legacy of personal and team accomplishment secure, he felt ready to end his career on top.
And now finally, before retiring, he decided he could take a visit home. It would his first Christmas vacation with his family in over fifteen years. He wanted to go home sooner than this, but duty was incredibly busy, and sometimes he’d been overseas, so it’d just seemed impossible. But now he could start winding down. He wanted his family at the ceremony his staff was putting together to honor his service. He decided to go home and make the announcement on Christmas Day.
He’d arrived a few days before Christmas. Pops’s physical condition surprised him…though Mama still seemed vibrant for a woman in her late seventies, he didn’t realize how frail his father, now in his eighties, had become. All his siblings were home for Christmas this year, and it was great touching base with all of them, their spouses, and their children. He’d lost contact with Ricky over the years, but he’d found Brian on social media— Brian no longer lived in San Diego; he’d relocated back east; but as soon as Benji informed his family, he planned to invite Brian to his retirement ceremony too.
After Christmas dinner and with everyone there, Benji decided it was time to make his retirement announcement, but for some reason— he didn’t do it. Something felt a little bit off…for one thing, only Pops asked about his service. No one else brought it up. And though it was his family, they all seemed to know each other…while Benji seemed like he was trying to get to know them again after being away so long. He didn’t feel like a stranger—but it was odd to try to fit in with his own people. They all shared stories over the past years that involved each other, and they all knew people Benji didn’t know…because Benji had been gone. Their stories involved family members; Benji’s military stories involved only him.
So ultimately, the holidays came and went…and Benji never did make his announcement. But when he returned to his base, his staff sent a personal invitation to all family members and then followed it up with a personal phone call to each one.
Benji should have made these invitations personally, but he didn’t. He thought he was too busy.
I told Benji this. Repeatedly. I thought I was getting through to him; he seemed to really reflect on what I was trying to get him to understand, but he never did make contact with anyone but Mama.
And he never did contact Brian.
I wish Benji and I could have just had a regular conversation. It would have been much easier, but unfortunately…that’s not the way it works.
When the day of the retirement came, Benji found himself uncharacteristically nervous. Most of his family had arrived, but Pops’s health made traveling impossible. Angela wasn’t coming, but Nikki was smiling and holding on to his arm. Marcus introduced himself to Benji’s staff as “Chocolate Thunder”, seemingly unconcerned with the embarrassed silence that followed. Sid was also making jokes about how there was no way he could have done “thirty years of hut one, hut two” in the Army and warned Benji in front of everyone that he “was about to leave the easy life and come into the real world.” Benji thought his brothers would be proud, so their reactions confused him.
Benji was concerned with the ceremony venue—his staff convinced him to hold the ceremony in the base theater, but the theater held seven hundred people. Even if one hundred people showed up, the theater would look empty. It would be humiliating. Mama was as proud as ever and kept telling the story of Benji’s big breakfast the day he left for basic training thirty years previous. Nikki was making constant social media posts about everything that was happening, she seemed to be in awe. But it almost seemed his brothers might even enjoy the humiliation represented by an empty theater; it’d be something else to make a joke about.
He shouldn’t have worried. His driver arrived in the VIP van to drive his family to the ceremony, and as they approached the theater, Benji could see the parking lot was packed… fuller than he’d ever seen it.
Inside the theater, it was standing room only. It seemed as if the entire base came out to honor its retiring command chief master sergeant. Benji was relieved and felt a sense of pride in his base…his Airmen. But as the ushers prepared the family to go to their seats by pairing them up with escorts, Marcus began to create a scene by refusing his escort, saying he would walk to his seat by himself and he didn’t need any of this “military nonsense.”
And Sid was laughing at the scene.
Mama and Nikki glared their disapproval, and Benji fumed. He had no idea why his brothers were acting this way…like they didn’t want to be there. But as his two brothers finally submitted to being escorted, Benji noticed how the two winked at each other.
And giggled.
Benji wasn’t the only one to notice. The escorts also noticed and shared quizzical sideways glances.
I comforted Benji, saying, “Forget it. Walk tall. It’s your day today. Most won’t see you ever again after today. You’re the base’s command chief master sergeant for one more hour. Give your Airmen something to remember.”
And Benji proceeded to do just that.
He focused on the volunteer who was proud to sing the national anthem at his ceremony. He focused on the base commander’s words honoring him for over thirty years of service. He focused on the flag ceremony conducted by his first sergeants as Tom Waits’s haunting “Lay Me Down” played in the background. He focused on the thunderous and sincere applause following his final address to his troops. And finally…he focused on the over seven hundred who came to ramrod straight attention as as the ceremony concluded, he went to his wife’s seat. She took his arm, and the two began to exit the theater, but not before the entire theater erupted one last time in raucous, spontaneous cheering and applause.
Benji and his wife stopped at the door to turn and acknowledge the well-earned adoration from the men and women he’d led for so long. And with a final wave, Benji and his wife exited into a waiting staff car and were driven away for the last time.
And then it was over.
The thing that had defined Benji and the only life he knew as an adult…was over.
Forever.
And the struggles began.
Benji struggled to grasp his new non-military identity. He’d spent his teenage years trying to fit in…thirty years finding the team he fit with…and now the search for where he fit began again.
He didn’t quite fit in with the military anymore. Of course, at the ceremony, they’d said, “You’ll always be a part of our military community,” but the reality was the active duty service members had to come first. As a military retiree, he couldn’t even get his teeth cleaned. He missed the military…but the military moved on without him. It had to.
He didn’t quite fit in with the family he’d grown up with anymore. They all had connections to each other that he’d missed out on…he didn’t even know many of his nieces and nephews; and they didn’t know him. They shared no stories or experiences because they had none to share. To them, their Uncle Benji was a myth who’d always been somewhere else.
He had his wife and children, though, and now he had more time to spend with them. But as he pulled out a football one evening and was playing catch with his fifteen- year- old son, his son remarked, “Dad…this is the first time we’ve ever played catch!”
“No it’s not!” Benji laughingly responded.
But then a thought came to Benji…a disturbing thought.
His son was right.
This award-winning, combat- decorated, high-achieving senior military leader, a man who’d led and positively impacted thousands, both in combat and during routine peacetime operations…was playing catch with his son for the very first time.
When he was fifteen years old. The same age he’d been when his cousin introduced him to the idea of military service.
Benji was in a daze as his son dropped the ball, laughed, and said lazily, “It’s OK, Dad…it’s getting dark, though. I’m gonna go in.”
And with that, his son went inside, leaving the football wobbling where he dropped it; Benji watched the football wobble until it came to rest.
As he stared at the football now resting in the gutter, Benji faced his new reality.
His family had also moved on. While he had been busy leading Airmen, his wife had built a life of her own within their house, his son had seemingly grown into a young man without his influence, and Benji recalled seeing his daughter posting on social media about a man who was “like a father to her.”
But his daughter had a father…just not a very good one apparently.
Benji found himself wondering “who needs me now?”
Suddenly, Benji felt like a lonely old man, left standing in the dark, in the middle of a barren street, just watching a football now laying perfectly still in the gutter.
I got close to Benji, and trying to make him smile, I whispered, “Let’s go home, Command Chief.”
The look on his face spoke volumes.
He had no idea where that was.